


Perfect Idiots

by WardenAri



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:35:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27329650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WardenAri/pseuds/WardenAri
Summary: This will be one offs from my "Imperfect Timing" story. Things that didn't fit in the fic itself as well as prompts from Tumblr for these two.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Female Warden, Female Cousland/Cullen Rutherford
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	1. The Barn Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from Tumblr for Dancing

Dria looked at herself in the full length mirror. The dress she wore was beautiful to her, and not just because it had been a gift from Cullen before he’d left. She loved the shades of blue throughout it. A checked pattern. It would be scoffed at in an Orlesian ballroom, but here in South Reach she would fit right in. Except she didn’t  _ feel _ like she fit right in. Cullen’s family had made her one of the Rutherfords instantly. For that she was grateful. She’d never had a sister before; now she had two. And Branson had proven to be a funny younger brother. Always quick with a quip. He reminded her a lot of herself and so the two had bonded quickly. But she saw the looks the others in town shot her way. It was as if they could tell just from looking that she didn’t belong; that she was an imposter. And in many ways she was an imposter. To everyone in town, including Cullen’s family, she’d simply been introduced as Mrs. Cullen Rutherford. As someone he had met long ago and found again during the recent war. Not one person, save her husband, knew she was “The Hero of Ferelden”. In many regards, Dria preferred that. Living in obscurity was preferable to being the person everyone looked to for help. She was happy to be Cullen’s wife and nothing more. A former soldier, sure, but not someone to be taken notice of anymore than anyone else. Here she could just be.

“Are you ready? Oh my, that is beautiful. My brother has good taste,” Mia came closer to take another look at Dria’s dress.

“Thank you,” Dria blushed slightly at the compliment. She felt butterflies at the thought of leaving the house.

Her face must have conveyed her worries as Mia looped arms with her and patted Dria’s. “You’ll have fun, I promise.”

Dria nodded, still unsure. Dancing at balls she could do, but except for the one time in “The Herald’s Rest” she hadn’t really participated in more common dancing. She didn’t worry about looking like a fool for herself. What she worried for was embarrassing her new family. They’d all been so kind, so warm to her. But the people they’d see tonight, these were their neighbors and friends. They didn’t know this newcomer. This could be a disaster. Summoning up what she referred to as “the spirit of Eleanor Cousland” Dria stood taller, took a deep breath and nodded to her sister-in-law. “Let’s get this over with.”

“It’s a barn dance, not an execution,” Mia belly laughed. It was one of the things Dria adored about the woman, how easily she laughed.

It instantly put Dria at ease, realizing she  _ was  _ being silly. Mia, Branson and Rose weren’t her brother, they weren’t Orlesian nobility. They loved her unconditionally because their brother loved her. They weren’t waiting for her to mess up so they could cast her out. For the first time in over a decade she had  _ real _ family. For the first time that night a true smile came to Dria’s lips and she nodded.

“Let’s see if you say that after the third time I’ve stepped on your feet,” she teased.

As they walked along the dirt road leading from Mia’s farm to the Southerland family farm where the dance was being held they talked. About nothing and yet so much. Mia seemed excited for a “night out” as she kept calling it. Her husband, Alfred, stayed home with their children so that Mia could take the opportunity to introduce Dria to the town. Dria had already met several people during trips to the market and in the Chantry service, but this would be the first social event she’d attended since arriving in town.

“Now whatever you do, don’t drink anything Lucy Melis offers you. It always has enough alcohol to kill a bronto,” Mia winked.

“Sounds like she’d get along grand with a pirate I knew,” Dria laughed, thinking of Isabela and wondering just how big of a hat she wore these days.

“You know a pirate? Like a real one?” Mia’s eyes got wide. “You’ve been holding out on me. That is definitely a story I want to hear.”

“Alright. But only when there’s no little ears around,” Dria playfully elbowed Mia as they walked.

“Oh, I  _ really _ want to hear it now,” Mia smirked. “Next time they’re out of the house, you owe me that.”

“Deal,” Dria nodded as they entered the barn together.

It was incredible inside. It barely looked like a barn. The floor was still dirt, but it had been swept clean of any hay or feed. The inside was brightly lit, and at one end was a stage for the musicians. Along another wall was a table full of different dishes. It was there they headed first so that Mia could drop off the cookies she’d made. Everyone that had come had brought something to share. Mia said it was called a “pot luck”. Dria found it fascinating, the idea of a meal made from so many different dishes from so many families. It would have horrified the nobility for sure, which made it all the more intriguing to Dria.

“Come, I have someone I want you to meet. She just got back into town so I haven’t had a chance to introduce you yet,” Mia gently tugged on Dria’s hand.

Mia led her to an older woman. The woman’s hair had gone totally grey, yet her face still looked youthful. The lines on her face showed how often she must laugh and her eyes lit up when she spotted Mia approach.

“Mia! How wonderful to see you,” the woman held out her hands to take Mia’s in them and give her a squeeze.

“Ma,” Mia smiled. “Dria, this is Nelly Larson but we call her ‘Ma’. She’s become like another grandparent to my kids. She is also from Honneleath. Ma, this is Cullen’s girl, Dria.”

“Mrs. Larson,” Dria nodded her head. 

Nelly tutted at her, “None of that ‘Mrs. Larson’ nonsense. You call me Ma like the rest of the family. So where is that husband of yours? I haven’t seen him since he was a little tyke.”

“I’m afraid he’s away on Inquisition business,” Dria shrugged. “You knew him well?”

Ma nodded, “I used to watch over the whole lot of them whenever their parents needed help. But that was many years ago. I haven’t seen him since he’d left for the Templars. I heard he had left the Inquisition though.”

“He had,” Dria nodded. “But the Inquisitor needed some aid and he left temporarily. He’s expected back in another two weeks. I’m sure he’d be happy to see you again.”

“Ah, Mia,” they all turned as a young woman approached them. 

“Sally,” Mia smiled politely at the blonde woman who had approached. Her skin was tanned from long hours in the sun, and Dria deduced that like many here, she was a farmer as well. “Please meet my sister-in-law, Dria. Dria, Sally works the farm three over from ours. She’s also the school teacher for the town.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Dria nodded.

“Where is that husband of yours?” Sally said to her and looked around the room.

“Away, I’m afraid,” Dria laughed. Cullen sure was popular for someone that had never met these people.

“Oh poo,” the woman shook her head. “I heard you brought the old Whittekar place.”

Dria nodded. “We did. Cullen is still fixing it up though, so for now I’m staying with Mia.”

“Mia, would you do me the honor seeing as how my wife refuses?” A dark haired man approached and held out his hand to her.

“Oh hush,” Sally playfully hit the man. Dria realized she was the wife in question. “Please do so he’ll stop asking me.” 

“For you, Sally,” Mia chuckled and took his hand. “Philip, shall we.”

“So how are you settling in?” Sally asked Dria after Mia left.

“It’s different. But in a good way,” Dria quickly added. It wouldn’t do to insult everyone. “I’d lived a soldier’s life for so long. It’s actually nice to just stay in one place and not have anything worse to battle then my nephews.”

“I don’t think I’d ever heard anyone describe a farm life as quiet before,” Sally laughed. “But I could see how in comparison.”

A tall, red haired man came up to Dria and smiled flirtatiously. “I couldn’t help but see you’re alone. Would you care to join me for a drink?”

“Oh, I thank you, but I’m married,” Dria gave him a nod.

“Your husband just left you here at this dance alone? He’s an idiot or a fool,” he shook his head.

“Jonathan,” Sally snapped at him.

“I think you’ll find my wife will tell you I’m often both,” someone said behind her. Dria’s face lit up as she recognized his voice.

“Cullen,” she turned and looked him over. He was dressed in a blue shirt to match her dress and black cotton pants. “I thought you’d be gone for a few more weeks.”

“We resolved things quicker than expected. Alfred told me you were here. I hope you don’t mind me crashing your night out with Mia,” his eyes never left hers even as he took her hand in his.

“Of course not, you fool,” she shook her head at him.

“I told you,” Cullen laughed and looked up at Jonathan. “If you’ll all excuse me, I’ll be happy to catch up later, but for now I’d like a dance with my bride.”

He led Dria to the dance floor.

“Cullen, I don’t know what I’m doing,” Dria whispered to him.

“Just follow my lead,” he reassured her, placing one of her hands on his bicep and the other he took in his own hand. The fiddlers began a lively tune and Cullen began moving them to the left, dipping them both to the side as they moved in a large circle. As promised, he made it easy to follow his lead and soon Dria knew the steps, relying on her years of dance lessons in her childhood. They laughed as the now familiar steps quickened in pace. Still Dria kept up. She couldn’t keep her eyes off his face. It had been nearly two months since she had seen him and he was just as beautiful a man as she had remembered.

As the dance ended, Cullen’s hands fell to her waist, both of them catching their breath. Cullen stepped closer to her and dipped his head down enough for their lips to meet. “You look beautiful in that dress.”

“Thank you. A dear man bought it for me,” Dria smiled.

“He has excellent taste,” Cullen kissed her again, this time nibbling on her lip.

“So I’ve been told,” Dria put her arms around Cullen’s neck and rubbed her nose with his. He was home and just like that she no longer worried about if she’d fit in or not.


	2. Chaste Touches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was given the prompt of "Chaste Touches" by

Dria had made it clear that she wanted nothing more to do with him. But then he’d had that horrible withdrawal, one that had her caring for him overnight. And after that the touches started.

He thought at first he was imagining it, or making it into more than it really was. Somehow she always found areas not covered by his armor, as if wanting to make sure he felt it.

The first time was when he’d stopped by Josephine’s office to drop off papers. When he’d entered to find the Ambassador was away and only Dria was there, he’d turned to leave, not wishing to disturb her. But Dria beckoned him in. She barely would look at him, but her fingers brushed against his hand as he’d handed her the paperwork. He felt grateful that he’d forgone his usual gloves that morning. Though he was sure it was an accident, the memory of her touch had kept him smiling the rest of the day.

The second time was a week later. The librarian on the second floor had made clear that the tome he wanted was not being taken out of the library room even if he was the Commander of the Inquisition. So, like he had in his youth, he sat at a desk among the stacks taking notes of the information he needed.

Dria entered, he knew it was her without looking, the smell of Andraste’s Grace from her lotion gave her away. He purposely didn’t look, knowing his attentions were unwanted.

“The Ambassador said you had some books for her,” she stated to the librarian.

“Yes, that pile there,” the elderly woman replied.

It was then that he felt fingertips brush along the back of his mantle, just beside his neck. The barest hint of them against his skin. He was almost certain he’d imagined it again, but something had brushed against him for certain. Yet when he snuck a glance at her she appeared to be ignoring his very presence.

“Cole?” he asked after she’d left, wondering if maybe it was the spirit playing a trick on him. Cole didn’t answer. The librarian hushed him however.

The third time was in the War Room. Josephine had requested Cullen and Cassandra join her in the Inquisitor’s formal drawing room for tea with a visiting Arl from Ferelden after the meeting. Josephine had made it very clear with  _ several _ notes and one of her assistants reminding him in person that his armor was  _ not _ to be worn. It felt odd to stand in a War Room meeting dressed formally instead. The Inquisitor and Cassandra were dressed similar, which made him feel less self-conscious about it. The meeting adjourned, he gathered up his paperwork to head to the tea.

“Cullen, a moment,” Dria requested. He tried to ignore the butterflies in his stomach at her use of his name instead of his title.

She took the papers out of his hands and placed them on the War Table. One at a time she took his arms, straightening each cuff and folding it formally. She reached her hands behind his neck and began to fix his collar. It was then that he forgot how to breath. Her fingertips brushed along his neck as she did. Calloused from years of holding a sword, not soft like those of most women. He preferred it if you were to ask him.

Her fingers brushed further down onto his chest where she now used her whole hand to press away any wrinkles. He  _ should _ be agitated by this. To some it might seem like a mother fussing over a child. But Cullen couldn’t seem to muster any emotions other than confusion and nervousness. Confusion because hadn’t she said she wanted nothing more to do with him? Nervousness because she was touching him. She was so close he could smell her lotion of Andraste’s Grace just like that day in the library.

She looked up and gave him a warm smile. “There. Arl Wulf is our fellow Fereldan. We need to make a good impression on him to garner the support we need. I’d say you’re ready, Commander.” She handed him back his papers and stepped back.

“I..Uh,” Cullen started to reach for the back of his neck but stopped himself at the last moment. He worried he’d be scolded if he messed up her work with his nervous habit. “Thank you.”

He left quickly before he made more of a fool out of himself. As he walked to the tea he wondered how soon he could find an excuse to be near Dria again.

**Author's Note:**

> These characters are from [Imperfect Timing ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16796905)


End file.
